The Naming of Master Cyclonis XVIII
by La Clef A Verite
Summary: Fifteen years before Terra Cyclonia fell, the youngest Cyclonis ever to rule was named. Everyone thought her name was Lark. And everyone was wrong.


The Naming of Master Cyclonis XVIII

* * *

Before Terra Cyclonia was destroyed, the Cyclonian Palace dominated the red skies of the entire quadrant. If you had bothered to search this stronghold, you would've eventually come across a room buried in the center. And if you had gone there the day after Master Cyclonis XVIII was born, you might've seen three adults and a day old baby, late at night.

Though this room was for a child, it had no presence of warmth you would expect from such a place. The room was painted a dark purple, almost dark enough to be distinguished as black. There were no windows or pictures. The floor was carpeted with black and light came from candles, crystals, or nothing at all. The only sign of a baby was a crib with a single stuffed toy, a brown doll with lopsided eyes, and a row of three 'hairs' poking out.

The baby slept quietly in the desolate room, while three others were discussing something in hushed voices. A young woman, looking tired and frail, had spoken first.

"What should we name her?" she had asked, clearly exhausted.

A much older woman with long, dark hair, responded, "You choose. After all, you are the mother, Retia."

Retia shook her head. "I have no ideas," she had whispered. "Master Cyclonis," she added, dipping her head.

Cyclonis acknowledged the title and continued. "Very well," she said, with authority. Her gaze fell on the man who not spoken. Though he looked as if he didn't want to partake in the conversation, Cyclonis asked him, "What about you?"

He shrugged, his dark eyes betraying the hatred he felt towards his mother. The double of those eyes, albeit perhaps surrounded by more wrinkles, flashed with anger. "Fine," she had said. "I shall name her."

Retia looked surprised. Tradition showed that the parents of the next heir should name him or her. Cyclonis's breaking of that tradition showed that she did not care for it. Cyclonis's son did not show it, but he added another reason to his list of things he hated about the Cyclonian empress, despite the fact that he had forced her to such with his own sullen refusal.

Cyclonis took large, commanding strides toward the crib and picked up the future empress. The girl stirred, but slept on. As Cyclonis gently touched a thin, spidery finger to a small lock of hair, she recognized her own genetic inheritance. She smiled a victorious grin that her son knew very well. A smile that signaled she had figured something out.

"Lark," Cyclonis announced and raised her eyebrow. "Or do you not like it, Kondri?" she asked, when he had stood from the chair that had recently been left.

"No," Kondri strained, trying his best to control himself. He was shaking with anger while Retia tried to quiet him, but to no avail. Kondri was slowly losing restraint. "My daughter, the future queen of Cyclonia will not be named after some common bird," he spat, his voice rising. "She will have a name that surpasses any other!" he shouted, now lost all control.

"Shh…" Retia hushed desperately, but was too late. The baby had woken up and had started crying. Retia reached to take her daughter and Cyclonis deposited her into Retia's outstretched arms. She gently rocked her child while listening to her husband and her mother-in-law argue back and forth. She sighed. Another one of their daily bouts.

"I thought you didn't care!"

"Of course I do! She is my daughter!"

"Then you think of a name!" Cyclonis crossed her arms while Kondri thought. After pondering for a bit, he had the perfect name. One that, in his opinion, surpassed Lark by quite a bit.

"She shall be named," he smirked, eyes gleaming. "Presentia Notitia Cyclonis."

"Very well," Cyclonis blinked, after a moment of silence. She turned to the locked door and drew out her key that was the same gold as the old-fashioned doorknob. It was one of the last doors in Cyclonia that still had them.

"Wait!" Cyclonis whipped around at the sound, eyes flashing with annoyance. "What are you doing?" Kondri asked, ignoring them.

Cyclonis remained silent and seemed as if she wasn't going to answer. Despite this, Kondri didn't avert his cold gaze, so she replied curtly, "Writing the Name Letter." It was Kondri's eyes' turn to flash with annoyance, but Cyclonis just walked out the door.

Kondri sank back into his chair. Yes, it was his mother's job to write it, but he should be writing it. After all, he did come up with Presentia's brilliant name. But tradition stated that the current Master Cyclonis would write a letter to the newborn heir about the origins of their name. This was usually given right before the heir inherited the Cyclonian throne. Kondri had not even received his, as he was still waiting for the throne. As much as he hated it, he had to let Cyclonis write the Name Letter.

Cyclonis threw open the doors leading to her room and sat at her old, worn-out desk. She sifted through important documents and crystal notes before finding a blank piece of paper. She reached for the inkbottle and a fresh quill. Though she knew she could use pencils or pens, she felt more comfortable with a soft quill in her gnarled hands. Cyclonis dipped the quill in the ink and began writing.

_Dear Presentia Notitia Cyclonis,_

_This letter was given to you because you are about to receive the Cyclonian throne. As tradition goes, this letter will tell you about your name, Presentia Notitia._

_A day after you were born, your mother, father, and I, your grandmother, gathered to discuss your name, in your room. Your mother did not have a say in this, nor did she want to. Your father had the same mind, at first._

_I wanted to name you Lark. For a lark is a bird that is able to fly freely and sings songs that touch people's heart. I want you to be free, and to be able to touch people's hearts, just like a lark. That would be quite hard, as the empress of Cyclonia. You have your duties and everyone will look up to you with fear and respect. Not admiration. Unless, you, of course, do something magnificent. Try._

_But your father said otherwise. He did not want to name you after a rather dull-looking, common bird. So he gave you the name you now bear. Presentia Notitia Cyclonis. If you had paid attention to your Latin lessons, you would already know what it means. Power. Knowledge._

_I believe he wanted a name fitting for the throne. It is clear he thinks power and knowledge are a necessity when ruling. Why else would he give you this name? If he had thought otherwise, I do not know his reason. I think he won't want me asking. Your father hates me and can't wait until he sits on the throne that you now sit on._

_Bear the throne and your name well, Master Cyclonis._

_Your loving grandmother,_

_Master Oriole Ibis Cyclonis._

Time flew quickly in the Cyclonian palace.

Cyclonis XVII had ruled for ten long years, remaining strong despite her son's death in a tragic accident. At least, no one wished to question whether or not it was an accident, and incur the Queen's wrath.

The new heir to the throne grew in knowledge, in power as a crystal mage, and in her grandmother's favor. Truly, ten years was far too short a time for Cyclonis XVII to know the darling girl.

Unfortunately, time did pass, and despite advances in medicine and technology, there was no cure for old age. As with Cyclonian tradition, the new Master was crowned.

Fifteen years after the writing of that old, traditional letter, Master Cyclonis XVIII sighed as she put down the precious paper she had just read for the… truth was, Cyclonis had lost track. Ever since her beloved grandmother handed it to her with her final breath, she had read and reread it. For five years, she kept it, savoring her grandmother's words.

Yesterday had been her birthday, yet no one cared. No one had wished her a happy birthday or given her any presents. Not that she cared. She had everything she needed, anyway. It would've been nice, though. She was willing to bet half her crystals no one had known.

Cyclonis stood up then sat back down. Everything was ready, the crystals, the heliscooter, and most importantly, the plan. Yes, it was all set. Now all she needed was a name. Her name was too classified to be used in this mission.

She leaned back and closed her eyes. I wanted to name you Lark… Your father said otherwise… Your father said… Your father… Her father. The hatred for their parents most has been a family trait, because Cyclonis hated her father just as he had hated her grandmother. But she had surpassed him! Because of an accident in the crystal lab, Kondri had never sat on the throne as emperor! She had done what he could not. She had conquered so many Terras, more than he could have ever dreamed of.

Cyclonis' eyes flew open. She had the name. She would take the name her father had refused. A gesture to the father she loathed.

As she walked out the once majestic doors, she grabbed her crystal staff, which was never too far from her reach. Although, given how many people hated the Cyclonian Empire, it was too far to begin with. She checked with the Dark Ace to make sure everything was in order, including the group of Talons that would come afterwards. She activated her crystal and made sure she looked nothing like Master Cyclonis. She looked nothing like Master Cyclonis. In fact, all this was really too bright for her. She made a mental note to never look at her clothes or into a mirror during the mission. Her head throbbed until she looked away.

Cyclonis boarded the too pink heliscooter and left Terra Cyclonia behind.

And with that, Cyclonis flew off to find the Storm Hawks, as Lark.

* * *

The Dark Ace paced, waiting. She would be back soon. He glanced at the sky. Nothing yet…

Bright crystal light flashed behind him. Not startled, the Dark Ace turned around. "How did it go, Ma-a-a-" he stopped upon seeing Cyclonis's look. Though she was easily infuriated, this was beyond anything the Dark Ace had seen. Her eyes were wild with anger, her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth in a tight, grim line.

"You win some, you lose some," Cyclonis said, once again. The Dark Ace knew better than to ask what happened, so his mouth remained shut. He bowed and when he looked up, Cyclonis was already gone.

Freedom. The word tortured Cyclonis as she slammed the door on the Talon's sorry faces. She sat on the throne, hard. Freedom to do what? Become friends with someone whose whole life was devoted to stopping her? _Freedom _had caused her perfect plan to corrupt.

Cyclonis did _not _become friends with Piper. She simply did _not _make friends. They got in the way of her dreams of conquering Atmos. That's why Oblivion crystals always worked for her.

So why did it not work on _Piper_ of all people? Cyclonis rubbed her temple. There was something wrong with the crystal. It was mistaken. It had _thought _Piper and Cyclonis had been friends.

Her father had been right after all. Power and knowledge were her top priorities and freedom was not. So let power and knowledge take over.

A levitation crystal soon brought her a well-thumbed book. Called 'The Guide to Crystals on Atmos', it was, in the late Cyclonis's opinion, the best guide in all of Cyclonia.

Relaxing, Cyclonis settled, comfortably, in her throne and turned to the last page. The very last sentence almost made her hurl the book across the room.

_Crystals are never wrong._

Instead, Presentia Notitia Cyclonis silently closed the book.

* * *

AN:

Presentia means [in Latin]: presence, presence of mind, effect or **power**

Notitia means [in Latin]: **knowledge**, information, data, notes or annotation

When giving reviews, I prefer ones that give constructive criticism. So... try to give some!


End file.
